"Why do they [write] for their money? Why do they [work] for short pay? They ain't getting nowhere and they're losing their share. They must have gone crazy back there." — Michael Burton (paraphrased)
Clinton, South Carolina, Friday, March 24, 2017, 9:45 a.m. On Tuesday night, I was having a lovely time sitting around in a circle, taking turns with others, playing guitar – most of the others could pick one – and singing while a fearsome storm raged outside. I was in a barn. There were refreshments. Meanwhile, …
Continue reading The World Gets a Little Larger When the Modem Dies
Clinton, South Carolina, Thursday, February 16, 2017, 10:20 a.m. One of my daily duties is to delete spam comments from my websites, wellpilgrim.wordpress.com and montedutton.com. Occasionally, one of them suggests: Manual blogging is so troublesome. You can remedy this. Click here. I’m afraid to click. As a general rule, no good can come of it. …
Clinton, South Carolina, Tuesday, February 14, 2017, 11:45 a.m. It’s closing in on noon, and my chief accomplishment is half-watching Polly Bergen play the first woman president in a movie made in 1964. Also, I prepared and consumed breakfast, and delved deeply into the latest doings of Twitter and Facebook. As is the case 99 …
Continue reading Something About Nothing, or, Some Things About No Things
Clinton, South Carolina, Thursday, January 26, 2017, 9:19 p.m. I haven’t spent a night away from home since last May, which is probably the longest stretch of my entire life. That’s going to change. I’m taking off. I don’t know when I’ll be back. Probably in a few days. Could be, oh, Sunday, or Monday, …
Clinton, South Carolina, Friday, January 20, 2017, 11:47 a.m. The new president is about to take office. In a moment, I’m going to listen to what he has to say. I’m not going to write about politics. It has left me weary. I hope for the best. Instead, I’m going to write about something frivolous. …
Clinton, South Carolina, Thursday, January 12, 2017, 11:50 a.m. I am in a state of paralysis. I haven’t ground completely to a halt. In half a day, I’ve written 305 words of fiction. They’re 305 decent words, so, like Bill Murray in Caddy Shack, I’ve got that going for me. I am depressed. Not clinically …
Clinton, South Carolina, Saturday, December 31, 2016, 10:54 a.m. It’s the final day of 2016. The year will soon be tucked snugly in bed, and all the Trump partisans will have sugarplums dancing in their heads, that is, if they can get to sleep amid all the fireworks. That’s my metaphor for Year of Our …
Continue reading Not a Fond Farewell but a Farewell, Just the Same
Here are a few things I believe. I'm sure I'll leave out many. I'm sure many people in the history of this old world have said the same things. I didn't read them, though. They may not be original, but they're original to me. Or from me. Whichever. The truth is seldom more evident than …
I awakened this morning, and my mind was alive. It was aliiiiiive. Like Frankenstein. Then I staggered into the living room, and before I even put on some coffee, took my meds, and answered the alarms in my innards, I grabbed a pen and a notepad and wrote "appeasement" before my racing mind left it …
It’s probably a little aggravating to follow me on Twitter. My main account, @montedutton, covers a lot of territory because I cover a lot. Many of my followers are NASCAR fans. A reputation lingers after 20 years traversing the beat as a reporter and columnist. I still write a few columns each week from afar. …
Nightrider's Lament 